Peace and Hope
by Kerrison
Summary: Set post "Step Up" and "Five Candles," Tony & Ziva continue to develop their relationship through the holidays. TIVA.
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** This is a continuation of my stories "Step Up" and "Five Candles." I imagine it would be helpful to read those first. In fact, I recommend it highly!

Several folks asked for me to continue "Five Candles" through the winter holidays and wrap up some loose ends- I didn't think it would happen, but it did! All in one night, almost, too! Thanks to my fantastic betas, Jessie, Jaimee & Jen.

This is short & sweet, folks. There are currently 5 chapters. Unless I get a fantastic inspiration from my muse, this is **IT** for the story. I hope its what you all wanted!! I enjoyed writing this series more than you know and have enjoyed all of the feedback you have given.

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"Was that REALLY necessary?"

His voice was harsh and Ziva felt her shoulder's stiffen in reaction to his tone and the edge to his gaze.

"You would not have done the same thing?" she asked, sliding her jacket off her shoulders and hanging it up in the closet. In habit, she turned and took his jacket, hanging it along side her own.

They had a routine. Occasionally she would stop and pause, realizing that such a routine came with a closeness she hadn't intended; letting him into her life so fully had never been in the plan. But even with that realization and the load of emotion that came with it, she had no intention of changing anything. She enjoyed his company, his companionship, and the closeness that had developed between them.

Tony paused and glared at her. "I _so _would not have!"

"I do not believe you," she replied.

Tony snapped, throwing his hands into the air in frustration before storming down her hall and into her bedroom. He called over his shoulder. "Ziva! I wouldn't want anyone to see you naked but me!"

Ziva stilled her movements and allowed her mind a moment to process his admission. _This is new_, she thought.

Since their impromptu slumber party at Thanksgiving, they had ended up staying the night at each other's homes more and more often.

She had a companion for dinner each night this week as well as someone to hold her while she slept. Ziva wasn't complaining.

There still wasn't any sex.

And for the first time in her adult life, Ziva wasn't rushing. This wasn't about sex. This wasn't about being in control. This wasn't about her raging libido. This wasn't about being the best in bed he'd ever had – though she was sure she still would leave a lasting impression.

She had merely fallen in love with her partner, co-worker, protector and best friend. And instead of diving head long into a physical relationship that she was sure would be excellent yet still complicate things, they had merely progressed as if sex was not even an option.

In some small part of her brain, she knew it was _very _odd. And it was odd for both of them; with their typical libidos, the lack -of-sex was something for the record books.

Yet she felt closer to him than she had any of her other lovers. There might not be sex, but there was still intimacy with Tony where there had been none in her previous relationships.

And therein was the big difference- Tony was an actual relationship and partnership. Her previous experiences at relationships had been two people who were merely physically attracted to each other, able to tolerate each other's company in public, and had similar ambitions in life.

Despite the close quarters, however, they had yet to cross the physicality barrier that kept them "just co-workers." There was certainly kissing. And snuggling. And he had actually volunteered to give her a foot rub the other night during an Indiana Jones marathon.

But with Tony, there was intimacy.

He brushed her hair each night when she got out of the shower and worked his strong fingers so gently through her locks, forming a long braid down her back. He would kiss the nape of her neck when he was done, his fingers sliding down her shoulders and around as he held her from behind and rested his chin on her shoulder.

When she forgot to fill a prescription, he ran out and picked it up without question, cramming his longer legs into her Mini Cooper with only a few grumbles.

He would lay on the couch with his head in her lap while she ran the tips of her fingers across his scalp in a gentle scrub; he loved it and his eyes always closed with pleasure as she toyed with his hair.

When he had a migraine, she sat with him in bed after work, gently rubbing his temples until he finally was able to fall asleep.

They would discuss politics – admittedly in a very animated fashion – over dinner. And they each respected each other enough to know that "Are you crazy!?" wasn't a literal question. They agreed to disagree.

Ziva's favorite was grocery shopping. A chore she once found mundane and a true 'chore,' now was the highlight of her week. They strolled through the various farmer's markets in the area, finding the best fall produce. They had discovered that they both loved to cook and fresh vegetables made their mouths water. Of course, true to his genetic roots, Tony had an affinity for red-meat and Ziva made it her mission to drag him to every butcher in the area until they found the best steaks. In turn, he learned the types of teas she enjoyed and found a small boutique that catered to high-end herbal teas. Even the average grocery store became a fun excursion as they bickered over the best brand of pasta, the cheapest paper towels, and the most eco-friendly laundry detergent.

Yes. Laundry detergent. With the amount of time they spent at each other's homes, it was logical to just do laundry together each night.

That was what they said the first time her bra got tangled in his boxers.

The second time they merely made eye contact quickly before changing the subject.

By the third time, he was respectful about folding her bras and putting them in her lingerie drawer without comment.

Her panties, however, remained fair-game for his taunting and lewd comments. And if she was forced to admit it, Ziva really didn't mind.

Ziva shook her head from her drifting thoughts and followed him down the hall. He had shed his shirt and tie and stood at 'his' side of her bed.

"You want to see me naked?" she asked when she caught up with him in her room.

"I've already seen you naked," Tony replied, pulling his undershirt on before reaching into what had slowly become 'his' drawer and pulling out a grey t-shirt.

"Yes," she agreed as she forced herself not to blush. "But why would you not want to share that?"

Tony's head popped up through the neck-hole in his shirt. "There's no way I would take your baby-picture and put it on the plasma! No one's looking at you naked but me, Dah-veed!"

Ziva shrugged, taking his possessiveness for the compliment it was. "Your mother sent me the photo, Tony." She stepped to the dresser and pulled out her running pants and jog-bra and zip-up hoodie.

"My mother is a loon!" he countered. "I love her, but she's crazy. Who goes and sends someone they don't know a naked baby picture of your grown son? Crazy DiNozzo mothers, that's who!"

Her shoulders shook as she chuckled. "But it is an adorable picture, Tony! I bet that bear skin rug was soft against your baby skin," she crooned, ducking as he playfully lunged towards her. She stepped into the bathroom, just behind the door without closing it, and changed clothes as they continued to talk.

The photo was typical of the day; a baby-Tony lay on his stomach on a bareskin rug, his body bare and his baby butt prominently displayed in the photo. His eyes were bright and, even then at only a few months old, he still had the beginnings of the famous DiNozzo smile.

When she had initially opened the email from Teresa DiNozzo, Ziva couldn't help but croon a small "Aww" at the sight. Nor could she help the instinctual thought in her head of how cute their babies would look if that was what he looked like as an infant. She had immediately squelched the thought and mentally chastised herself for even going there.

"Thankfully, I remember nothing about that day. My therapy bills were already too high, thanks," he said, pulling on a pair of running pants and slipping into his tennis shoes. "However I will remember _today _for many years. I'm scared for life, Ziva! Gibbs laughed at my butt!"

"He did not laugh," she countered as she stepped out and pulled on her own running shoes. It might bet twenty degrees out with snow still on the ground, but they would still go for their run. It was Tuesday night, after all. "He said it was almost as cute as Kelly's was when she was a baby."

"He compared me to a girl!"

She paused and gave him a meaningful look. "Gibbs compared you to someone he cherishes and never speaks of. That is a compliment." she stood and stretched. "Besides, Tony, had such a cute butt!" she said, grinning.

"Have," he corrected. "Its still cute. Isn't it?" Tony twisted, trying to check out his own butt.

"I did give it a high rating, did I not?" she teased, leaning up and kissing his nose before heading to the door to get a head start on their run.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: **Sorry for the delay in posting, folks. I had a nasty case of Food poisoning on Friday & spent all of yesterday in bed. Hope this makes up for it & you all are enjoying the holidays, no matter what you celebrate.

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The snow was only a few inches deep and it reflected the bright green, red, white, yellow and blue lights with brilliant sparkle.

"I do not understand Christmas," Ziva said, staring at the holiday decorations lining the street.

"What's to understand?" McGee questioned as the four colleagues walked through the annual Holiday Lights display at Seneca Creek State Park in Gaithersburg Maryland.

The park's display of lights was popular in the region but never as crowded as the National Zoo's display; none of the group had a desire to be jostled and pushed.

They had spent all week chasing through crowds as a kidnapper targeted Marines' children in the local malls. The holiday was the prime time to get lost in the shopping rush and all but Abby sported bruises from being elbowed in a shopping crowd.

"This holiday," Ziva continued. "Is represented not by the baby Jesus, whose birthday it is, but by a fat old man in a red suit?"

McGee nodded. "Yep."

"A man who enslaves elves to work all year making toys for children?"

"Uh huh," Tony replied.

"Not enslaved!" Abby pipped in.

"They're not refugees like Oompaloompas, Abby," Tony countered. "Santa enforces some very questionable labor laws."

Ziva frowned. "What is an Oompaloompa?"

McGee smirked and Tony groaned. "I have obviously failed in my movie responsibilities."

"Oompaloompas asside," Tim offered, "The Santa legend is more a concept, Ziva. Spirit of giving, goodwill towards men, and all that."

Abby grinned, bouncing on her toes and her pigtails flopping from the sides of her Santa-hat. "Oh! Oh! 'Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus!'"

The Israeli waved her hand, trying to rewind the conversation. "_What _is an Oompaloompa and _who _is Virginia?"

Tim set a gentle hand on Ziva's shoulder. "American pop culture. I'll email you some links."

Ziva nodded, the tips of her curls bobbing underneath her winter cap. "Thank you."

Tony grumbled: "Santa's was coined up by some marketing guru to get people to buy stuff."

"Tony! That's not true!" Abby pipped up, glaring at Tony. She turned her bright eyes to Ziva. "In fact, it was Rudolph who was the marketing campaign! Our version of Santa is based on the Dutch legend of Sinter Klaus. He made his way to American culture in the 17th century when Dutch settlers came to New York. _Rudolph," _she continued, "was a marketing creation for Montgomery Ward stores in 1939; they gave away free coloring books to customers! By the end of the year, over two-point-four million copies of the Rudolph story had been distributed. That was _with _a war going on and paper rations, too!"

McGee turned a quizical eye at the forensic specialist. "How do you remember all this stuff?"

Abby smiled and linked her arm through his, snuggling close in companionship. "I am a wealth of information, McGee! Go ahead- ask me anything!"

"I see," Ziva said, interrupting Abby's demonstration of her many-skills. "So really Santa does not break child-labor laws, but instead has refugee elves. And Rudolph really is for selling clothes?"

McGee chuckled. "Forget the icons, Ziva. They aren't important. Christmas is just about spending time with your family, about celebrating another year of love and joy, and... a little consumerism never hurt anyone. And it helps the American Economy stay afloat. Businesses budget for the holiday season – if people stopped shopping, our economy would tumble like a bad house of cards."

"That's pretty much it, McGrinch. Well put." Tony offered a rare compliment McGee's way.

Ziva smiled as she felt Tony slid his arms around her shoulder and pull her tightly to him as they continued to walk through the various light displays at park.

They turned around a grove of trees, finding yet another beautifully set display of lights, this time depicting Santa, his reindeer and his sleigh.

"And this! This I do not understand," she said, gesturing to the reindeer. "Why do you only show nine reindeer?"

"That's all there are," Tim replied, frowning as he mentally re-counted. "Nine."

"Eight originals," Abby supplied.

"Plus the afore-mentioned marketing genius, Rudolph," Tony added.

Ziva shook her head. "No. There are ten."

"Uh, no," Tim said, his brow furrowing even more. "Dash, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen," he said, counting them off on his fingers.

"Comet, Cupid, Donder & Blitzen," Abby said, holding up four more fingers.

"Rudolph!" Tony supplied, holding up a remaining finger. "Nine!"

"There are ten!" Ziva said firmly. "You did not mention Olive."

As if on cue, all three frowned and asked "Olive?"

"Yes. From the song. Olive, the other reindeer."

"Are we thinking of the same song?" Tim asked just as Abby started to hum the bars to _Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer._

Ziva pipped in, singing the words gently. She slowed, enunciating clearly when she approached the lines she was thinking of. "...._Had a very shiny nose. And If you ever saw it, you might even say it glows. __**Olive, the other reindeer**__, used to laugh and call him names...._"

When Abby's accompaniment trailed off, Ziva looked up and saw that Abby had stopped singing because she was too busy grinning unabashedly at Ziva. "What? What is so funny?"

Ziva turned and looked at Tony who had stepped away and was leaning against a light post, holding his stomach in silent laughter.

"McGee?" she asked, turning to her one reliable co-worker and was surprised to find him covering his eyes and shaking his head balefully.

Ziva shrugged, not understanding the humor, she turned and regarded the light display. "Frankly, I think it is mean of Olive to not let Rudolph play the games, but perhaps there are rules to reindeer games that require a not-shiny nose, yes?"

Tony stood and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, kissing her quickly. "Yep. Olive's so mean Americans don't even talk about her," he said, causing Tim's laughter to increase.

The probie lost his balance on a spot of black ice on the sidewalk and slipped, taking he and Abby to the pavement as they both let fly peels of renewed laughter.

"I do not see what is so funny about a mean reindeer. This is not a song appropriate for children if your culture is worried about bullying in schools," Ziva grumbled, not enjoying being laughed at.

"Olive. The other reindeer," he repeated, chuckling as he did so. "Gibbs won't even believe this one."


	3. Chapter 3

"Big plans for Hannukah, Ziva?" Tim called from his desk as he typed furiously, trying to finish his crime scene report.

"Not anything big, no," She replied, her own fingers flying across the keys.

In a show of seasonal good-will, Vance had demanded that Gibbs let his team out of the office before it was dark outside so they could finish any holiday shopping they had left. Gibbs, begrudgingly had agreed on the concession that the team finish their reports first on Staff Sargent McKeon's murder.

The crime scene had been gruesome- enough to make even Ziva cringe. His wife and children had come home from holiday shopping to find the Sargent tied to the kitchen table, beheaded and gutted.

One look at the four year old daughter's face and Ziva had instantly felt the mother's anguish. Not only had she lost her husband and partner, but her children had lost their innocence.

Ziva apparently had stopped walking mid way to the house's front door when she saw the little girl sobbing in her mother's shaky arms.

It was the feel of Tony's strong hand on the small of her back discretely rubbing a gentle circle and ever so lightly pushing her forward that had snapped Ziva out of her momentary stupor.

Ziva mentally shook her head at the memory of that afternoon, trying to dislodge the image of the young girl's brown eyes from her mind.

"No rousing game of Dreidel at the bar? Taking all the money of those crazy sailors? It is pay week, you know," Tony teased, handing her a cup of tea before heading back to his own desk to finish his reports.

Tim noticed the interaction but, wisely, made no comment. His teammates had been moving towards a direct violation of Rule Number 12 and Tim was sure Gibbs was aware – not as if he'd squeal on them even if he wasn't. Ziva and Tony's happiness was worth a million Gibb's slaps- they both had been through enough in the last few years that they deserved to find some peace.

"Dreidel is for children, Tony," she said with a small smile. "I will go home, light my candles and read a book."

"No big feast?"

"It is not a feast, it is a seder. And seders are for passover," Ziva said, chuckling. "They really do not teach any Jewish culture in American Public Schools, do they?" She balled up a scrap of paper and pitched it across the aisle, beaning Tony in the side of the head and getting a death-glare in return from her wily Italian partner.

"Is that really all you do for the holiday?" Tim asked. "I thought it was a bigger deal than that."

Ziva shrugged and took a sip of her tea. "In America, yes. But in Israel, it is not a large holiday. Americans celebrate Chanukah much more than Israels because here Jews are surrounded by Christmas festivities. Children feel left out of the gift-giving, I think. In Israel, we remember the holy day, but we do not usually exchange extravagant gifts or go into this – this _frenzy _of shopping and decoration."

"Then I guess you won't want these, Agent David?" Gibbs asked as he strolled by her desk, coffee cup firmly in hand. He emptied his other hand on the top of her desk, chocolate-coins spilling out of his grasp and rolling on her paperwork.

Ziva gasped and sat back out of the way as she couldn't help but giggle like a small child at the sparkling items.

"Thank you, Gibbs," she said, running her fingers across the children's candies. It had been more years than she could count since she had received 'gilt' – even the chocolate kind – in celebration of the holiday. The small gesture by her boss and surrogate father suddenly made her feel much more at home during the often alienating holiday season.


	4. Chapter 4

"What _were_ your big plans for the night, Tony?" Ziva's voice echoed off the entry way walls. She tugged her jacket off and managed to remove her scarf, placing both on the hook that had somehow been designated 'hers' by frequent use.

Tony's items had been haphazardly flung on bench in the entry way and Ziva rolled her eyes as she picked up the jacket and scarf and hung them up for him. She was not surprised by his careless habits and she knew from experience that after a few minutes in his house decompressing, he would wander back to the coat-hooks and hang up his things properly.

"Doesn't matter," he muttered, heading to the bedroom. He tugged his sweater over his head as he walked.

"It does!" she said. "Did we have plans and I forgot?"

"Nope," Tony replied. He undid the buttons on his shirt, his tie having already been shed and draped around one of the bed posts. "You didn't forget anything."

Ziva slid between the bed and him, gently working on the buttons on his shirt from the bottom up. When their hands met, she covered his fingers with her own. "If it does not matter, Tony, why are you so upset?"

He closed his eyes briefly to still his thoughts before he leaned down and kissed her forehead gently. "I had a great time watching movies with my family tonight. Its fine."

"Obviously it is not 'fine'," she mocked gently.

"Ziva," he merely stated her name, using it as a stopping point for the circular conversation. Tony squeezed her fingers lightly as he stepped away. "Go take a shower. I'll start dinner."

Ziva was a trained assassin, a trained investigator and a fantastic judge of people. She knew he wasn't budging on this topic until he was well and ready. Despite that, she couldn't keep the small frown from creasing her forehead as she stepped into his bathroom.

When the water started to run and Tony heard her typical singing fill the bathroom he sat on the edge of the bed in a boneless flop. He managed to scrub his face in his hands in his typical expression of frustration and groaned into his palms.

"This day did not go how I planned."


	5. Chapter 5

She had wrapped herself in his fluffy navy blue bathrobe, the sleeves long passing her wrists. Ziva had rolled the cuffs back to make brushing her hair easier.

The bedroom was dark and the hall dim, but it wasn't the light from the living room that drew her down the hall, it was magical smells coming from his kitchen.

"I still do not know how you do that," she said simply. "I think there is nothing in the fridge to eat, but you manage to make the most delicious foods." Ziva leaned against the door jamb to the kitchen, her hands tucked in the pockets of the bathrobe and her feet crossed at the ankles.

He turned, spoon in his pocket and immediately Ziva read a the telltale DiNozzo nervous glint in his eye. Almost as immediately, the glint was replaced by an appreciative and lustful glance as he took in the sight in front of him.

Steamy, wet, sexy woman. In his clothes. Relaxed. She was so relaxed that she hadn't noticed how crossing her legs at the ankles made the bathrobe spread and those same legs were exposed up to her high thigh.

Tony audibly swallowed before setting down his glass of wine and taking three quick steps to her.

In a display of chivalry, he quickly tugged the bathrobe tighter around her, finding Ziva caught between a light blush and a chuckle. "If you want to make it through dinner..." he whispered in her ear.

Ziva reached up and gently cupped his face in her hand, placing a kiss to his cheek. "My knight in shining armor, yes?"

He chuckled and turned back to the stove. "Zi, I know we weren't going to do big presents this year," he said, his back to her as needlessly he stirred the rice on the stove top. "But there's a little something I have for you." He gestured to a medium-sized blue box on the table-top. _So maybe the day didn't go as planned; might not be too late to redeem yourself, DiNozzo._

Ziva eyed the package before reaching out and turning it over in her hands gently. _Interesting, _she thought. _Too big for a ring, too small for a sweater._ She pried the lid off with a thumbnail and frowned as she found a typical silver key on a keyring.

"A key?" she asked, pulling it out and holding it up slightly. Ziva watched as Tony's nod was the only reply. "To your apartment?" she tried to sound less shocked than she was.

Tony set the wooden spoon down on the spoon-rest and turned to face her. He leaned back against the counter-top and crossed his arms over his chest. "Not exactly," he said.

To anyone else, he would look relaxed. To anyone else, it would seam a casual pose. But to Ziva, she saw the tension in his shoulders, the nervous tilt to his chest. She saw the defensiveness to his stance even though she doubted he was even aware of it.

"There's not a lot of room here," he said, nodding his head to indicate his apartment. "And your place isn't any bigger."

Ziva raised an eyebrow at him as he paused to visibly gather his courage.

Tony cleared his throat and settled his eyes on a spot on the door frame near her head but not close enough to risk eye contact. "So, I know a guy who knows a guy," he chuckled nervously, "And he had a family emergency and had to relocated. Beautiful house with a _huge_ yard and big garage. The guy - Mitchell – he's a contractor so the house is in great shape. Its this renovated old Victorian.... you've seen it – we jog by it on Tuesdays," he said to her.

"The green one with the beige trim?" Ziva asked, having noticed the house on several occasions and admiring the beautiful property. She had been shocked to see a for-sale sign two weeks ago on their run and equally shocked to see a large "sold" sticker across it the week later.

He nodded. "Yeah. Its got that wrap-around front porch. And there's this huge garden in the backyard. Mitchell's wife liked to garden."

"You are giving me a key to this house?"

He nodded.

"I see."

"Do you?"

Her dark damp curls bounced as she shook her head slightly. "No."

"I bought us a house," he said quickly, his voice barely audible.

Ziva sighed as her brain caught up with all the random pieces of information he was throwing at her. She closed her fingers around the key and held it fiercely in her palm.

She closed her eyes, unable to keep the tears from pooling unshed in her lids.

Mossad agents did not cry.

But right this minute she was a woman first and an agent second.

"Say something!" he said, flinging his hands into the air at her prolonged silence.

Ziva blinked, the tears spilling silently onto her cheeks and she opened her mouth to speak but no sound came out. She shook her head quickly and cleared her throat. "I do not know what to say."

"Say I didn't totally just screw this up!"

"You did not," she whispered, stepping closer to him.

Tony met her half way across the small kitchen and tentatively settled his hands on her hips. "You're crying."

"I am not," she lied as she sniffed slightly and wiped her tears with the back of her hand, her finger still clutched tightly around her key. Ziva wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her head under his chin. "Thank you." She felt his body relax into her embrace.

"I thought about renting it out," he said gently. "But it just seemed stupid. I mean, I know I want to spend my life with you, but we haven't even..." he trailed off, not needing to voice their lack of intimacy; she was well aware.

Ziva pulled away and frowned at him and Tony immediately tried to backpedal. "We don't need to! I'm not pushing you! I can wait. You're worth waiting, Zi. I mean, I can guess at how amazing it will be when we finally _do-"_

She clamped a hand over his mouth firmly, stalling the rush of words. "_You _want to spend the rest of your life with _me_?"

_Ah. That. _"Yeah," he simply said. "Was I not supposed to say that?"

Ziva slowly removed her hand and they stared at each other for a moment before she finally let a small smile sneak onto her lips. "You are braver than I, Anthony DiNozzo," she said.

"What are you talking about, crazy ninja?" he asked, frowning at her sudden comment.

"I have been trying for _weeks_ to figure out how to tell you that I am tired of this 'in between' thing," she gestured to the two of them, "we have and I want to make things more – how do you say - permanent. But I was too afraid you would laugh and go running off to the next swimsuit model who came along."

"Weeks?" he asked, chuckling. "God, Ziva I've known for longer than that."

"It is not a competition, Tony!" she barked at him before rolling her eyes. She took a deep breath and slipped the key into the bathrobe pocket without another word. "Living together, hm?"

He shrugged, feeling her slid up against him and settle her arms around his neck loosely. "Its worth a try, right? And we practically live together now, right?"

"You do not have to convince me," she smirked before leaning up to silence him with her talented lips. When she had left him truly breathless, Ziva pulled away, grazing his lower lip with her teeth in the most delicate and erotic of fashions. "Turn the heat off under the rice," she whispered, her finger tracing his jaw line.

Tony swallowed as he watched her turn and leave the kitchen. "But dinner's almost done," he managed to eek out. _Smooth, DiNozzo. Smooth. _

"_Your_ present is in here," she called over her shoulder as she sauntered towards his bedroom.

Tony watched as she untied the bathrobe belt, letting it drop to the floor as she walked down the hall. He almost swallowed his tongue as he saw her slide the bathrobe down her bare shoulders before rounding the door to the bedroom.

The buzzing sound in his ears almost drowned out the sound of her voice as she called across the apartment: "What are you waiting for, DiNozzo? Do you want to wait till _next _year for this present?"

"No no no!" he said, barely remembering to flick the heat off under the rice as he wandered down his hallway in a daze.

His brain rushing in a million different directions, seemed to converge on one thought before he rounded the corner to his bedroom: _February might be a good time to give her that diamond ring in your sock-drawer. _


End file.
